


Recalculating

by Kyraelii



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Spanking, either or man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyraelii/pseuds/Kyraelii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How much does Jake like the color blue? Dirk attempts to find out, with a little crossdressing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recalculating

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing most of this between 1 and 2 AM so I'm terribly sorry...  
> ALSO! Dirk and Jake are actually 18 in this, but I'm just tagging as Underage because they canonly are not? Yeah.

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you're pretty sure you underestimated just how much your boyfriend likes the color blue.

Familiar tanned hands trail up the back of your thighs, gliding over the smooth sky-colored stockings, and the sensation makes you shudder and lean further over the kitchen counter than you already are. You hear a groan behind you, and hide a grin in the crook of your elbow. You're pretty sure Jake just caught sight of the prize-winning piece: a pair of light cerulean panties, soft as silk--because they are--and a shade deeper blue than the rest of your ensemble, but you don't think English minds. In fact, you'd go so far as to say he likes it the most, if the heavy breath he exhales now is anything to go by.

The entire outfit you've got on carries the aforementioned color theme, with the royal blue corset and its white lace embroidery that repeats in the patterns of the frills in the ends of the dress. This one is of the "lolita" fashion, or so you (barely) noticed when you decided to order it online. It went perfectly with the light blue of your stockings and gloves, the latter of which go all the way to just below your elbow, where your face is currently hiding your burning blush while Jake explores with those warm calloused digits.

His fingers trace along the elastic edge of your stockings, just below your ass while his thumbs ghost over the brink of skin touching stocking. And you wonder if he's trying to make you beg, because the fucker won't go any higher. You open your mouth to voice a complaint--and as if he knows what you're about to do his hands abruptly dart up to cup your blue-clad posterior, and your words dissolve into a low moan before you can even get the first syllable out. Your hips rock automatically, but your straining erection finds little relief pressed against the white cabinets and Jake only steps closer in response.

He chuckles at your reaction, fuck his laugh gets so husky when he's aroused. How is it legal for someone so dorky to be this sexy? "You alright there?" He asks, so close to your ear that you almost shiver. You didn't even feel him lean down; the heat of the moment is clouding your senses, and you know he loves it.

"Yeah," you pant, silk covered fingers attempting to dig into the smooth, cool surface of the counter. It doesn't work well, and you shift your stance to spread your legs further. These Cinderella-worthy heels are kind of a bitch, but you can barely even register it over the pure need boiling in your gut. "Yeah, just... don't stop."

He gives another short huff of laughter as he pulls away to continue manhandling your premium behind. "Only if you be good, love." Jesus Christ, he fucking purred that command. You can only groan and nod, then press your forehead against the blue fabric once again. He's a lot more dominant than he was last time, that's for sure.

Of course, the last time you did this was also the first time, and you weren't sure what Jake would think of it. So you had worn only an apron--yes, _only_ an apron--and made sure that you were in the kitchen around the time English would be in. He had entered the living room and glanced in your direction, only to stop and do a double-take before turning an interesting shade of red in the face. After a surprisingly small amount of spluttering, though, he gave in, leading to what you can only say to be an exhausting and just slightly awkward round of kitchen sex. (The two of you learned to stay away from corners after that.) His only suggestion was that were you to try that again, he'd like it if it was something blue as opposed to the gentle pink of your chosen apron. You ordered the lolita dress the very next day.

The familiar rustling sound of his belt unbuckling quickly followed by the metal clang of it hitting the floor snaps you from your memories, and before you can even tense with realization Jake's hands return without you noticing they had left, now sliding up the skirt of your dress to grip your thighs just as his hips come forward and--oh. There's no way to disguise the moan that tears from your throat as his cock grinds into your panties, unprotected by the clothing that he still has on piece for piece.

_That asshole even has his muddy shoes still on; you are so not cleaning those grimy footprints off the floor later._

_...Who are you kidding, of course you will._

The breathy groan behind you lets you know that Jake definitely approves of the smooth material, and fuck, it's thin too. You can feel him throb as he nudges you through the fabric. "Holy shit..." you mutter under your breath--and almost instantly after you yelp when a stinging slap is delivered to your ass. Your head swivels for you to glare back at your boyfriend, and the prick just grins at you like he's the cockiest motherfucker alive, pun intended. He leans down before you can hurl a biting insult, kissing just behind you ear in the spot he knows will make you shudder--and you do, damn him for knowing you so well--as his hand now rubs at the tender spot through cerulean silk.

"Cursing isn't very ladylike, Strider," he breathes into your ear, and god you are just going to melt with that predatory undertone. His grip turns rough as he drags you back onto his cock again, and you have to bite your lip to refrain from swearing as his member curves to glide along yours thanks to the downwards angle of his hips. He pulses, and a choked noise spills from your lips because it hurts how hard he's making you, it really does.

He doesn't relent. You love it, love when he dominates you, takes away all your power and lets you beg for it back only to say _no_. And he knows that, god damn him.

_You love him so much._

It takes all of your willpower just to nod in belated response to his words, withholding another noise that threatens to rise as his teeth graze over the shell of your ear in a gentle bite. The hand on your hip slides down just as the other raises, and one finger on each hand hooks in the back of your underwear. A soft breath washes over your neck as they pull the fabric down--only so far as to expose you, but not free your erection. Bastard.

This time, you're conscious of his hands leaving you, and he takes a moment to discard his shirt without taking his jacket off because he's a major idiot. He does take off his glasses, which you know because they click next to you on the countertop next to your forgotten shades, but they are quickly re-donned. You register the click of a cap popping off. You open your eyes, not realizing that you had closed them some time ago, and look back to see him spread the familiar translucent liquid over his fingers. Thankfully, he warms the lube (the last time he forgot, and you promptly swatted his shoulder for it) before his slicked-up hand dips down again, and you turn your head back to the safety of your arm.

It no longer hurts when his first finger slips in after an initial teasing, and it's quickly followed by the second digit; you shift your hips a little, but otherwise remain unmoving as he pushes in. It only gets uncomfortable at the third finger, and by then you're really too into the motions to care, panting quietly into the blue gloves as his fingers fuck you and spread you out for him.

You gasp at the fourth finger; it's nowhere near uncomfortable now, it's just good. The warm thrusts of the fingers, thicker than your own, has your hips rocking now, each push backwards finding your aching boner rubbed against Jake's with only the thin azure material separating skin from skin, and you don't know when you started moaning with each breath but you are doing just that. 

"Christ, Dirk," you hear the familiar cockney-accented voice murmur so very close to you, and all you can do is whine in response. Abruptly there's a hand under your jaw, fingers digging lightly into your skin to tilt your head up and back, and you gasp sharply when Jake's lips find your neck, sealing over the pale skin to give you a hickey just like you always do to him. There's a hint of teeth, and he bites down a little harder than you would because it makes you groan before you can even register it--"Jake," you whine, and he pulls back from the love-bite to crane his neck and press an openmouthed kiss against your jawline where his fingers dig in on the other side, and god you are being so noisy which is unusual but it seems to get him going, if the jerk of his fingers in response to the breathy moan is anything to go by.

And then he hits that sweet spot inside you and you're going to explode because the world suddenly _on fire_.

_It never gets old._

You don't even realize that you've let out a keen loud enough for the downstairs neighbors to hear until Jake strikes the "joy button" dead-on, and you make the noise again. Now that he's found that prized spot once again, he works his rhythm around it; his fingers come close, not quite touching in some strokes, but in the next hitting a bullseye that makes you cry out, the noise vibrating slightly in your throat as his free hand glides down it. "Beautiful," he sighs, and you're starting to feel lightheaded with the blood rushing to both your face and between your legs. It's just too much, it's too good and too nice and you're not sure which is going to burst first, your heart or your dick.

But now his fingers pull out from inside you, and you can't help but whine at the loss. He "shh"es you lightly and presses a kiss to your neck, always soothing when he isn't dominating. Sometimes he does both, and that's when your heart aches the best. At least you know that he's not done, anyways, when he raises himself so the heat of his chest is no longer on his back.

Your shoulders hunch lightly at the uncomfortable sensation of cold lube being slathered against your entrance, and you shoot him a glare but he just responds with a roll of his eyes and the usual goofy grin. You didn't even realize your hands had curled into fists until now, because they relax along with the rest of you when he smiles. So you exhale a snort through your nose instead of actually voicing a retort, and once again find solace in the safety of your arm.

When he nudges against you, now with purpose, you can't help but try to lean forward. Of course you go nowhere though, because you're pressed as close to the counter as you physically can be. He automatically grips your hip with one hand, the slicked one now holding himself still to drive in--but he's waiting, so very patiently for what he wants. You both know what he's waiting for, and your lips purse in annoyance until you finally snap, "Goddammit Jake, if you don't fuck me soon I swear to god, I'm-- _FUCK_!" Your irritated rant is cut short by a swear that inadverdently rips from you when he slams in, not even waiting. And it's followed up by another harsh smack to your ass, on the other cheek this time. It still makes you gasp noisily nonetheless, heat flooding the spot quickly. God damn, he has a strong hand when he wants to.

"Ah, ah," your lover chides you, and you bite the inside of your cheek to hold back a groan or a curse. You don't know which. Actually, it would probably have been both. "Looks like you don't know the first thing about being a good housewife, chap!" His voice is just too cheery, too sugary-sweet, and it makes fire crawl up your spine as he leans down over you, crushing you down onto the counter with his chest as both hands grip your ass. One is still sticky, which you'd grimace at were you not on a sexual high right now. You'll definitely be annoyed about it later. "I think it's high time I taught you to behave," he purrs in that perfect voice.

You don't even get the chance to respond before his hips withdraw, then snap back with surprising force.

The two of you quickly find out that your cries earlier were nothing compared to this, and you're pretty fucking glad you're only half coherent because otherwise you'd be damn embarrassed by the noises escaping your mouth with each of his rough thrusts. He doesn't give you time to adjust past the initial waiting, and it hurts so fucking good that you could cry. Your erection is painfully pressed against the cabinets still, straining in the panties that are still trapping it, and you need that to stop because you might just die with this painful tension. One of your hands manages to uncurl from its fist that you hadn't realized it was in, and you start to reach down--but Jake pauses in his rough pace to pull a hand back and grab your wandering one by the wrist, and immediately you whine loudly before you can stop yourself.

_Hell, like you could stop yourself now._

"Jake," you choke out in a heavy breath, but he shushes you and kisses at your jawline. His grip slides up so his fingers lace between your own over the back of your hand, and you squeeze them tight because even through the fabric he's so warm and he just anchors you.

His next thrust makes you scream, because the head of his cock hits those nerve ends and he knows it--how could he not fucking know it, the landlord probably knows it by now--and you are both figuratively and literally fucked. He aims for that with each stroke, and damn if he hasn't improved on hitting the spot. His fingers are going to leave bruises with how hard he's gripping your waist, and you're pretty sure you're okay with that.

The weight of him above you and slamming into you is almost too much, you're stuck between a rock and a rock-hard boner and you honestly could not be happier about this form of almost-suffocation. The lack of proper oxygen flow doesn't seem to stop your cries though, and your mind is just a stream of pleas, of _please Jake_ and _oh god--fuck, fuck me harder please_ and _I love you oh my god_. It's only when Jake gives a breathy reply of "Yes, god yes, I love you too, Jiminy fucking Christmas--" that you realize that you were speaking aloud, and basically shouting it to the fucking sky and god he is the perfect dork in the replies that make it past the pounding in your ears. He slams up into that special spot again. And again. And again. And again, and you're just so done, toes curling inside the ridiculously tall stilettos and chest heaving for air because you're going to explode and he won't even touch you, won't let _you_ touch, _how is that so hot?_

You do try to touch yourself again, and he responds by collecting your wrists into one hand and holding you down as his other hand slaps at each pale ass cheek until the creamy skin is flushed red with painful fire, why the fuck you haven't cum yet you don't know but you claw at the counter and boy your head, and try to beg for forgiveness between the broken cries that turn to sobs because even then he doesn't stop, his hand harsh on your skin in the best way. He tells you, through his harsh breathing, that you deserve it.

"Such a dirty whore," he growls behind you as his palm makes contact again, and you simultaneously hate and love when Jake is this aroused, this far gone, because he does things he never would with a clear mind. Like dish out dirty talk enough to make a pro pornstar blush, and it drives you crazy. "You know what I think? I think that you, are going, to cum," he huffs, each pause punctuated with a smack from him and a groaned sob from you. This is all too hot, you are sweltering in this dress but can barely even register it over his words. "And I don't even have to touch you. You're going to get off on only the hands on your ass and the cock in it."

The hand comes down again, but now to grip and squeeze the tender red skin with an almost loving purpose, and you don't even get the chance to answer. That thought and two more thrusts he slams into you send you over with your back arched and a scream on your lips that almost sounds like the name you've been chanting for who knows how long now. Through the burning hot pleasure your spunk is unloaded, an overwhelming satisfaction making you literally black out for a split second before you collapse.

He groans and lets go of your wrists, you've gone limp and won't move anyways. Both his hands grip your hips once again as he uses your body for that final stretch, and even semi-conscious you love the feeling of him doing this no matter how uncomfortable it is for you. But when he leans closer and kisses your ear, lifts his free hand to smear something warm and wet trickling down your cheekbone, you whine his name breathlessly and you think that does him in. He gives a shuddering breath, and you feel him lurch forward fully when his hips lock and he leans over you with a heavy moan, nowhere near as loud as yours but just as good to go with the hot liquid being spilled inside you.

It seems like an eternity later when he pulls out, making you sigh softly. His hands, neither sticky thanks to his clearheadedness in grabbing a paper towel while you rest, scoop you up and turn you over. At the same time, you slip your heels off using only your feet and reach down with a hand to finally tug the panties aside, although they're basically ruined. You don't have the energy to be annoyed at him for it, and simply cling to your lover in your relaxation.

The two of you remain locked like this, facing each other with him leaning over you and your legs locked around his waist. both panting and gulping down all the air your lungs will let you. Jake shifts to capture your lips, and the two of you kiss lazily until the blissful sheen of afterglow edges off. Slowly, your body's aches start to become more prominent, and you feel hella uncomfortable all sticky and pressed to the counter like this. Finally you grunt and push on his shoulder, and he's quick to relent. He stands, looking a little sheepish as you sit upright--which makes you wince--and look down at yourself, then at him. Your ass literally is in pain right now, inside and out, and you're sure to put an edge in your glare. He gives you his usual hopeful smile, and something inside you melts a little despite your annoyance.

"So..." He starts, and the blush dusting his countenance under the tan is so precious as he readjusts his glasses, since they fell askew in his frenzy. "...You should wear that again sometime."

You can't help but laugh, throat scratchy and rough from your vocalizations, and nod as you pat down the fluffy frills. It all feels kind of gross with the sweat (and cum) making it cling to you, and you can't wait to take a shower. Still; you really miscalculated his adoration for the cobalt hues. "Definitely," you respond with a light smirk, and he beams back at you. You're pretty sure the two of you share the same thought in this moment.

_Hell yes._


End file.
